


Paper Planes

by vwhale



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Trans Flug, flug is sad lmao, hell yes, office fucking, this was supposed to be pwp but im a sappy bitch, uhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vwhale/pseuds/vwhale
Summary: “It’s just the two of us. The world won’t end if I tell you that.” Black Hat snapped, huffing at the rejection.“I just mean. I didn’t think y-you-- I didn’t think you cared.” He’d set down the plate, not even half finished, and pinched the bridge of his nose, unsure why tears were so quick to his eyes and trying to push them back down manually, like that would work.





	1. Happy Pills

**Author's Note:**

> So, every OTHER chapter will probably be smut. Keep in mind that I suffer from major depression and I'm really not trying to romanticize it.

Living in a mansion was a step up from what Flug was used to; he’d made do with amazon buys for his laboratory before, cheap shit and putting equipment in the dishwasher. This was… It was a dream come true. The chemicals alone would’ve cost him a fortune he didn’t have-- all for free, as long as he stayed up to date with each of his boss’s requests. Even his quarters were nice, his own bathroom, a nice closet, a study all to himself where he’d spent countless hours of rare, precious free time assembling his prized model planes. It should’ve been perfect-- he had his dream job, in a nice place, a satisfying relationship, and a successful career blossoming under his work. 

So why was it coming back again?

Why was he spending less and less time sleeping, avoiding his friends, skipping meals to hide away behind the next project, convincing himself slowly but definitively that his work was his worth, and if he wasn’t working, he wasn’t worth the space he took up-- it was vicious. And it attacked, apparently, even when everything was fine. 

Before, he’d have just gone back to Dr. Eisen and obtained another prescription, take a few happy pills a day and feel more like himself. It was a little hard to do that, though, when he hadn’t realized it hit him. When the symptoms of depression sneak up on him like a freight train. It’s harder for him to drag his body out of the safety of his house, his laboratory, just to see a doctor for a damned prescription when he was already in the thick of it. He could probably make his own serotonin, overdose on it, and get high on the mania that’d ensue. Sounded like fun, if he had the motivation to do literally anything that wasn’t awfully mechanical, routine, and work-focused. 

Demencia had noticed; 505 had noticed-- he wasn’t so sure on whether or not Black Hat had taken note too. They wouldn’t talk to each other about it. Partially because Demencia wasn’t invested enough, 505 was too stupid, and Black Hat didn’t associate with either of the two when he didn’t have to.This-- this was getting out of hand, though. Flug was the only person on Earth halfway interesting, and even he was losing his spunk in light of something out of his control-- the apathy? He could sympathize and relate, being as old as he was made things meaningless and boring, but everything else? 

Eldritch beings didn’t necessarily have serotonin deficiencies. It didn’t happen. 

When Flug was one of the few things to chase away the apathy, it bothered him that the man was so severely reclusive now. It was humbling in the worst of ways, looking up what to do in these situations-- Fuck knows he didn’t like technology in the first place, and reading about the struggles of people he didn’t care about was even less savory, but most signs pointed to “support”, so he’d put on a good face and try his best.

“His best” came over breakfast. 505 had made eggs and pancakes, and was getting good enough for Black Hat to spend a few minutes eating them. Flug, as the new usual, had skipped breakfast and disappeared into his laboratory. So. The logical conclusion and a good sign of support seemed to be bringing him the plate he’d almost missed out on. 

Black Hat was awkward for once in his life, if only briefly, before straightening and opening the lab door. He didn’t need to knock; he owned the damn place. That tiny, imagined annoyance would keep him wholly together long enough to put the tray down on top of the papers Flug was studying, a loud _clang!_ as the plate hit the metal table, only slightly muffled by sheets of blueprint. Flug jumped at the sound, and his annoyance was immediate.

“Yes, _Jefe?”_ He asked, feigned interest in the food that had been presented him. There was a tension between them that neither would acknowledge, weeks without sex or really any meaningful interaction would do that to a relationship, and here they were. Black Hat felt his temper flaring at the other’s grossly inappropriate attitude, his voice clipped and curt when he spoke.

“Oh, I thought you might want something to eat before you shut everyone out for the day.” That was a blow that he didn’t mean, and he immediately regret it when Flug tensed up and pushed the plate away. 

“I’m not hungry.” It was punctuation, closing up, withdrawing into himself, and Black Hat was made immediately aware that this wasn’t the supportive tactic he was supposed to be working with. So he started over, a different angle, a softer voice.

“Please eat.” A forbidden word, one he rarely said and even less rarely meant, his eyes so intense on the other, Flug felt pinned even behind his paper and goggles. He relented, remembering that he in fact loved the man in front of him, even if their relationship was tenuous and rough, it was worth every second. This was one of the more important seconds he’d remember.

“Fine.” He picked up the plate, preferring to stand. Black Hat figured that was his cue to leave, even if he felt like it wasn’t enough, and turned towards the door. He stopped suddenly, with a soft interjection.  
“You can stay, if-if you wanted.” That’s all he needed.

The eldritch leaned against the wall, quiet for a few minutes as Flug nervously removed his goggles and bag, unable to eat with them on, looking at Black Hat unfiltered for the first time in almost a month. The demon damn near melted, almost pulled him in for a hot kiss right then, but reason told him that wouldn’t be appropriate. Missing someone who hadn’t even gone anywhere was a shitty kind of hurt. Certainly not the worst-- whatever Flug was feeling was probably the worst, but he didn’t know what that was like. 

“I miss you.” He eventually blurted, just as Flug was swallowing. He almost choked, surprised at the unprovoked affection from the other.

“Uh-- Sir?” 

“It’s just the two of us. The world won’t end if I tell you that.” Black Hat snapped, huffing at the rejection. Flug started over-- a different angle, a softer approach.

“I just mean. I didn’t think y-you-- I didn’t think you cared.” He’d set down the plate, not even half finished, and pinched the bridge of his nose, unsure why tears were so quick to his eyes and trying to push them back down manually, like that would work. Black Hat materialized in front of him-- he was always so confused by crying-- his hands on the scientist’s shoulders, searching for words. The easiest ones were hard to say; this simply wasn’t his personality, being so soft and comforting, but it seemed to be what Flug needed (though he wasn’t entirely sure if crying in this case was a good sign). 

“You’re not as stupid as that, come on.” He finally said, getting a small laugh from the other. Flug suddenly lifted his face, looking at the other briefly with those startlingly alive eyes before pressing a soft, wet kiss to the demon’s jaw. 

“Thank you.” 

Black Hat, thoroughly flustered, pat the doctor’s back awkwardly before taking the plate and shuffling out of the room, entirely flushed as though they’d only just become official. 

He could do this. He could… _somehow_ Help the doctor through this. It couldn’t possibly be as hard as it was made out to be, could it?


	2. Nothing Like Takeout To Set The Mood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He might as well go through with this; ever since Black Hat kissed his neck yesterday in passing, he’d been daydreaming. Depression always stole his sex drive away from him, but he wasn’t about to miss out on something like Black Hat when he was starting to recover-- this could be a great step, right?

It was like breaking ice with strangers; Flug was still barricaded in his lab most of the time, but his presence wasn’t painful anymore. His words weren’t scathing condescension, they were softer and nervous again. Fuck if nerves weren’t a good sign, when Black Hat had been getting apathy and irritation for weeks. They started having lunch together- which was nice. Today, they were having takeout at Flug’s request in Black Hat’s office. The demon had straightened up, put away a mess of papers, even opened a window. He’d read somewhere that sunlight and fresh air helped with depression, so that’s what he was going to do.

Doctor Flug was nervous; getting food from outside the manor in addition to his, uh… romantic plan had his nerves creeping back up on him. 

Still, he might as well go through with this; ever since Black Hat kissed his neck yesterday in passing, he’d been daydreaming. Depression always stole his sex drive away from him, but he wasn’t about to miss out on something like Black Hat when he was starting to recover-- this could be a great step, right? 

Then again, he’d never really been in a relationship during times like this. They usually ended as a result of his lack of communication and general disinterest, but this was different. Black Hat wasn’t one to give up, and-- fuck, he was thinking about that deliciously long tongue again, the way Black Hat would shapeshift just enough to elicit moans, how that creature practically delighted in the ways he could get Flug to react; he was getting excited thinking about it, nearly falling over in surprise when Demencia popped out at him.

“Look who’s emerged from the depths!” She mocked, but it was all in kindness, he supposed. Whatever. He was about to bang Black Hat, and not much could put him off of that.

His boss had started eating already by the time he got there, delicate and skillful in his use of the chopsticks. Flug even picked out proper manners in how the man laid them down, following chinese rules of etiquette as though they came naturally. It was so, so easy to forget how long Black Hat had been alive; of course he’d more than likely spent some time in Asia; and he himself could only pick out the mannerisms as a result of his college roommates. They were a rowdy, delightful bunch, and it was a shame that they’d never get to hear about his sex life again, since he was _definitely_ about to revive it. 

“Oh-- I started already, since you have no sense of punctuality, but your food should still be warm.” This was it, this was Flug’s time to shine. He was going to _get it._

“Well. Well, w-well, _sir,_ I’ll--I’ll have _you_ warm, is what I’ll do.” His fists were balled and his red face practically glowed through the thin paper of his bag, voice cracking on the last word like some fucking teenager about to cry in a fight. Black Hat looked at him blankly, unsure if Flug was coming on to him or trying to start an argument. He stared at him a moment, silent, before returning his attention to his noodles and waved a hand. 

“You’d better eat first, in any case.” 

“No- Fuck, _Jefecito,_ I… want you. Right now, a-and right here.” He took a few steps forward, his hands firm on the desk in front of the other, staring him down. Black Hat finished his bite, taking his sweet fucking time, before looking up at his employee and partner, leaning back in his chair.

“Hm. About time.” He was grinning at that, then, and Flug felt his knees go weak. “Are you going to come over here, then, or are you going to keep staring at me?” The scientist practically tripped over himself to get around the desk, excited to no end that he was finally going to get some action. 

Black Hat’s hands found the other’s waist, sliding underneath his lab coat and easing the smaller man into his lap. It was a simple move, but one that made Flug’s heart flutter as he straddled him. His slender, gloved hands came to rest on his boss’s chest, tugging playfully on his lapels. His bag was pushed up just enough for a kiss, and he was always so thrown by just how pliable and pretty Black Hat’s lips were; they weren’t soft, they weren’t _human,_ but it was still somehow perfect.

Flug’s fingers tightened against Black Hat’s collar, pulling him in and deepening a kiss he’d missed so fucking much in his self-isolation. It was so fucking easy to forget how much he liked this when emotional permanence was a bitch that didn’t exist to him; but this time, like every time, he told himself he’d remember.

“You’re _cold.”_ Flug muttered, Black Hat’s hands pushing up his shirt, slowly as though it was his first time seeing the other’s stomach. The demon had been this careful their first time, too, had acted aloof and irritated, but it was so damn clear how intent he was on moderating the pase so Flug didn’t get overwhelmed; it was sweet. Since then, he’d mostly dropped the act, but they both appreciated the banter his attitude struck up. 

“Honestly, Syls, if you haven’t noticed my low body temperature by now, I’d start to worry about the true extent of your intelligence.” Black Hat said it without a hint of malice in his voice, a hand raising to the back of his scientist’s neck and pulling him into another kiss. Flug barely had time to lift his bag, despite the demon’s slow pace, easily caught off-guard. He’s tossing it entirely, hearing the paper crunch softly as it hits the floor. Black Hat was always so much calmer when it was just the two of them like this, less explosive, more of a person than the cartoon villain persona he liked to play. 

“Yeah-well… _shut up.”_ Flug replied, flustered and irritated at how smooth and controlled Black Hat always was, in contrast to his own nervous jumble. 

It’s a smooth transition, anyways, the scientist loves this part; he’s sliding down, positioning himself neatly under his boss’s desk (the close space was actually comforting, in an unrelated thought). Black Hat’s legs spread discreetly, his hand lazily tangling into Flug’s hair as he pulled off his gloves, hurried and excited, and went to work undoing his boss’s fly.

“Don’t make me wait longer, Flug, I’m not a patient man.” Black Hat practically growls it, earning a soft exclamation from the other, who’s fingers finally achieve their task. He’s pulling Black Hat’s familiar-and yet never endingly interesting- cock out to look over. It’s slick, dimly luminescent and curling against itself gently. Black Hat’s face flushes, and he clears his throat impatiently. 

“R-right! Sorry.” Slow strokes draw a soft, low sound out of the demon, his hand retreating from Flug’s hair and resting instead on the edge of the desk. It’s a goddamn miracle; sometimes, Black Hat forgot what it was like when those warm hands touched him, and it was always great to be reminded. Flug is careful, calculated, pausing a moment to let the excited tentacle twist around his fingers. He leaned forward, a slight hesitation, before kissing a curve of it, another soft sound from Black Hat his reward. A hot lick runs along the side before he’s slowly and easily pulling the tapered tip into his mouth, playing with it with his tongue. It’s a fucking joy, feeling Black Hat’s thighs tense a little while he practically frenches the guy’s dick, a satisfied smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“Oh _bomboncitooooooooo!”_ Demencia bellows it, suddenly and without warning (as usual), as she bursts through the office door. Flug freezes, terrified that he’s just gotten caught despite his hidden position underneath the desk. She thankfully doesn’t see him, and Black Hat’s hand sneaks down to pull on the scientist’s hair. 

“You know better than to barge in on me, Demencia! I don’t know why I keep you around, Jesus Christ--” He’s cut off by Flug misinterpreting his signal, taking his boss’s squirming cock deep into his mouth, an impulsive act of nerves that has Black Hat’s voice very nearly cracking.

“Oh, you’re just grumpy ‘cause you missed me! I’ll leave you alone in a moment, anyways. I just wanted to let you _knoooooow_ that that frogman-guy-whatever you were griping about yesterday? I took care of him! He _croaked”_ She paused, grinning, before trying to coax a laugh out of the demon who was too busy stifling his reaction to Flug’s work to play along. “Get it? Because he was a toad or whatever. Anyway. Dead hero. Happy Hat. I thought you’d be more excited!” 

Black Hat’s eyes flare, and there’s fire in his voice when he speaks, low and threatening.  
_”Get out.”_

She scampers away pouting, and Flug’s immediately pushed off and pulled up, Black Hat’s hands rough as they shove him onto his back on the desk, pulling at his pants, pressing hard, hot kisses against his neck. 

“Sir--!” 

“Shut up, Flug, or I’ll stop.” The threat was low and sweet and perfect, silencing the scientist into a whimper as Black Hat’s hand slid into his now-loosened pants, massaging him underneath his clothes and getting an immediate response. Flug’s hands tightened on Black Hat’s shoulders, his head falling against the desk, rolling his hips up into the other’s hand. 

“You’re cute when you’re helpless.” The demon purred, eliciting a gasp from the other when his fingers rolled over Flug’s sensitive clit. The sound that rolled through the scientist like thunder in a distance was cut off and swallowed by a harsh kiss, Black Hat’s expert hands sending tremors through Syls’ body. It was desperation alone that moved the doctor’s voice, pulled his lips away from the kiss long enough to beg.

“Please, _Jefecito”_ He whined it, practically cried for him, unable to stop his hips from twitching up into the other’s hand, and those two words are all he needs. Black Hat practically rips his jeans off, pulling them down only around the man’s thighs where they get stuck, and he’s lifting thin legs onto his shoulder, tentacle cock briefly flirting with Flug’s clit before he’s easing himself in. It’s fast, and Flug gasps at the sudden stimulation, the way he’s handled, it’s _so fucking good_ to be touched again. 

“F-Fuck, _Jefe,_ fuck,” He’s stammering it out, over and over, a hand raising to cover his own mouth so as not to attract any more attention than the two of them had already gotten. It’s a struggle to stay quiet when Hat’s cock fits so nicely inside of him, curls in just the right places, has his thighs shaking. “Hat, please, _fuck,”_ He’s pleading for something, and he doesn’t know what. Grabbing desperately at the other’s collar, lapels, anything he can get his hands on, he’s holding back moans

“You’re so fucking hot like this, damn, stuffed and flushed and pretty.” Hat breathed, a low noise rumbling from him, riding on each progressively harder thrust. Flug’s moans drew out, long and needing, his back arching off the desk. Black Hat’s hand snakes up the man’s body and closes around his throat, not enough to cut off air-- he doesn’t like the gasping sounds-- but enough to make a show of control. 

Flug shudders as he cums, and Black Hat is quick to follow, hot and tight inside of the other. It’s a relief that has him sagging against his ornate chair once he’s ridden it out, Flug gasping and limp, draped over his desk like a doll.

“Huh.” Black Hat mused, out of breath. “Guess you missed me, too.


End file.
